


Knowing what it's like to feel kept

by mariamegale



Series: Call me 'sweetheart', please? [8]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dom/sub, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Smut, but there is sex, idiot boys in love but not talking, ish, it's a woozy, really not that angsty but you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale
Summary: There are three facts Eugene has taken to repeating to himself like it's a mantra, lately.Fact One: Eugene is in love with Babe.Fact Two: Babe does not care for Eugene in that way.Fact Three: No matter how badly Eugene wants Fact Two to not actually be true, it doesn’t change anything.It’s annoying and it hurts and it makes Gene have to take a time-out sometimes to bend himself over at the waist and count to ten to get rid of the aching feeling in his chest, but there’s nothing he can do to change facts.
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
Series: Call me 'sweetheart', please? [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722178
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	Knowing what it's like to feel kept

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahlu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahlu/gifts).



> WE'RE BACK TO THE SMUT, ladies and gentlemen. maria's porn: now with 17% extra feelings!
> 
> Before I start this, tho, I figured I should clear something up regarding red/yellow/green safewords for people who don't adhere to the basic traffic light system, so that no huge questionmarks arise:
> 
> "Green" basically means everything is good, keep going, it's perfect. "Red" is a hard stop, scene breaks immediately, time to get swaddled in blankets, we are under no circumstances continuing. "Yellow" is basically a "slow down" or "pause," like "we don't have to stop, but something doesn't feel right so let's just time out for a sec."
> 
> If you already knew that, sorry to have over-explained this to you kjhksjhskjs.
> 
> Content warnings at the bottom! <3

Eugene has had a long week. He’s had a long week, and he’s exhausted. 

He hasn’t had the time or energy to sit down and make a proper meal in eight days, instead sustaining himself off of leftovers and quick pasta sauces made at 9pm while trying not to cry because he’d have to be back at the hospital in eight hours. 

On-call weeks were the worst he knew of, because of course there was no such thing as being theoretically free in trauma medicine, not in a city like Philadelphia. Gene had given up on the idea of staying home years ago, instead spending every second of his shifts in the hospital because he knew that the beep of his pager was inevitable anyway.

But this means the only time Eugene has had in his own home has been spent either eating, trying to cook something to eat tomorrow, showering or sleeping. 

That, in turn, means he’s seen far too little of Babe lately, and he misses the shit out of that boy.

Ever since the minor breakdown Babe had had a few months back, introducing Eugene to the brattier side of his boyf—  _ roommate  _ (a side that he has spent some time getting well acquainted with, since), Gene has accepted the permission to at least sleep in Babe’s bed when his schedule is like this.

And thank God for that, because if it hadn’t been for the sight and feeling of Babe’s body against his as he fell asleep and woke up, Eugene isn’t sure he’d have been able to get through this week. Of course, he says that, but this also means he’s had to start every morning by untangling himself from said body and leave Babe to wake up alone. 

It’s been a rough couple of days.

But Jesus if it doesn’t feel worth it when Gene finally comes home on Saturday night, knowing he now has four days before he has to get back to work. It might be the masochist in him thinking that the pain was worth it, but the eventual reward of finding Babe Heffron waiting by the door like a puppy makes something in Eugene’s chest clench.

“Welcome home,” Babe says with a nervous little smile, and Eugene doesn’t even care to get his jacket off before all but marching himself into a hug.

He’s exhausted, but Babe feels safe and warm, arms coming up around Gene’s shoulders while Gene wraps his own around Babe’s waist to press him close. He presses his nose into the spot where Babe’s neck meets his shoulder, breathes in, and clings. 

It feels like home, and Eugene is too tired to care about the fact that he’s all but rubbing his face against Babe like a cat, because Babe is there, holding him back, and it feels like permission for Eugene to be as ridiculous as he wants.

Pressing a kiss to Gene’s hairline, Babe mumbles, “you home now? Like, for real?” And Eugene almost wants to both laugh and cry at the hopeful tone in Babe’s voice.

He sounds like Eugene just came home from a war, and it’s maybe overly dramatic but also so perfectly Babe that Gene all but melts into his arms more than he already has.

“Yeah,” is what he responds with, moving one of his hands from Babe’s waist to his shoulder blade to be able to press him closer. “Yeah, free for the next couple of days, all yours.”

“Yay,” Babe whispers back, and Eugene does laugh then. It turns into a groan, because his feet are killing him and his back is killing him and— let’s just say that if it’s a body part belonging to Gene, it’s aching right now. 

Babe pulls back with a small tutting noise, making Gene frown unhappily. “Come on, you stubborn doctor man,” Babe says kindly, moving his hands to Eugene’s shoulders to pull his jacket off of him. “We’re getting you into a shower and then it’s off to bed for you.”

There are about a million things that Gene would rather do than go to sleep right now, but he’s aware enough to realise that he could probably accomplish exactly zero of them in this state. So he lets Babe take his bag as he himself pads off into the shower, only stopping by his room to get some pyjamas out. 

The fatigue properly hits him once he gets under the water. Gene doesn’t care that Babe can probably hear his groaning, because he’s tired and aching and the water is hot enough to scald his skin. It’s perfect. 

Gene loves showering with Babe, he really does, but it’s another point of mild contention between the two of them because Babe is a delicate Northern flower while Eugene doesn’t consider water warm unless his skin is tingling once he gets out of it. So showering alone is honestly a treat at this point, especially now that he has the time and relaxed energy to properly enjoy it, and enjoy it he does.

Even the very soft fabric of his sweatpants and sleep shirt sends shivers over his burned-red skin, and it’s wonderful, making Gene feel rubbed raw from the inside out. He doesn’t quite stumble out of the bathroom, but once he gets to the edge of Babe’s bed he absolutely flops down with a groan and a sigh next to the man already in it.

Babe laughs, and Eugene rolls over to once again mush his face into Babe’s chest. There’s a hand tugging on his shoulder, making him frown because Gene doesn’t want to move, he wants to just lie here and breathe in the scent of Babe.

“Come on,” Babe mumbles fondly, “get under the covers. You’ll get cold and then you’ll get cranky and nobody wants that.”

Eugene has to admit that the man has a point, and he guesses there are worse things to move for than to get closer to Babe. That doesn’t stop him from doing it with a lot of annoyance though, groaning as he squirms around until the covers are on him instead of under him, Babe running an apologetic hand through Gene’s hair.

“See?” Babe says gently as Eugene finally gets to press their chests together and nuzzle into Babe’s neck, “doesn’t that feel better?”

Gene just huffs at that, like an actual child, and leans up on his elbows to press a kiss to Babe’s cheek. He then realises he really needs to do it again, and again, and once Babe turns his head, Eugene is powerless to do anything but push their mouths together with determination.

Babe’s hands are on the small of his back, one of them running up his side and over his shoulder to get a hold on the back of his head. Eugene responds by rolling his hips on pure instinct, and Babe groans when there’s a distinct lack of… A certain something, there. 

“I fucking hate your job,” Babe mumbles into Eugene’s mouth as he rolls them over, their sloppy kissing teetering on the brink of being frantic, “it steals your dick from me and frankly, I think that’s an actual crime. I should sue. Or at least write a strongly worded letter.”

It makes Gene laugh so hard any feelings of insufficiency at the fact that eight days in the ER has taken away his ability to get a hard-on go away immediately.

“I’m sorry,  _ chérie, _ ” he sighs in response, taking Babe’s face between his hands. “We can still—“

“Nah, I’m not getting off without you,” Babe replies, opting to instead press a few gentle kisses to the side of Eugene’s face. “Besides, if this is not your body telling you that you need to get some sleep, I don’t know what would be.”

Eugene wants to argue, because Babe is clearly in the mood and he feels the need to make up for lost time, but he’s also already halfway to sleep just by getting into bed, so he settles on a compromise.

“Fine,” he groans out, rolling them back over until they’re both on their sides and Eugene can curl up in the space of Babe’s body, “but I’m fucking you first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh, is that a promise?” Babe giggles, wrapping his arms around Eugene’s waist and tangling their legs together. “Because you don’t have to feel like you—“

“I wanna,” Gene yawns out, running one hand up the inside of Babe’s soft pyjama shirt just to feel his warm skin under the palm of his hand. “Missed you.”

Babe takes a deep breath, nuzzling his face into Eugene’s hair gently. “I missed you too, Gene,” he whispers back, and it makes Gene’s heart flutter. “Go to sleep now, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And he tries to, he really does, but Gene is also trying to beat back a very messy tangle of thoughts and it makes it difficult for him to relax, despite how marrow-deep his exhaustion runs.

Because Babe says that, but he doesn’t know what it means to Eugene. He doesn’t know that it makes Gene’s chest clench, that it gives him butterflies in his stomach, that it makes him have to beat back a smile against Babe’s chest.

Because Eugene is in love, and Babe doesn’t know, and it’s making something ugly and uncertain settle into the pit of his stomach, because there’s essentially a whole layer of context that Babe simply doesn’t have access to in all of their conversations, now.

It’s making him feel gross and angry with himself, this blatant advantage he’s taking of Babe’s hospitality and trust to feed a part of himself that cares more about this, about them, than Babe probably does.

Eugene is a big boy, he can deal with a one-sided sense of affection, and there’s no part of him — whatever arrangement they have in place be damned — that thinks Babe has any obligation to return any feelings at all. That’s not what it’s about.

It’s about the fact that Eugene doesn’t sleep in Babe’s bed just because it’s cozy or comfortable or brings with it the possibility of morning sex, but because his own feels too big and empty. He has seventeen pillows in a queen-sized bed, but Gene still feels like there’s too much space when he goes to bed alone.

It’s about the fact that he cares more about making Babe smile than he cares about getting him off (and the amount that Eugene cares about getting Babe off is immense, because it’s frankly the best sex he’s ever had in his life).

It’s about the fact that he knows Babe doesn’t do serious relationships, that he’s never been in one his entire life, that he’s honestly never seemed to look for it either. What they have going on is practical, and it’s convenient, and Eugene isn’t a big enough idiot to think that Babe doesn’t enjoy it, but there’s…

There’s something rubbing him the wrong way about knowing the extent of his own feelings while Babe does not. But at the same time, he doesn’t know how to bring it up, because losing what they do have might actually kill him. 

Is he selfish? Is this something that would actually make a good addition to a “reasons for me to go to hell” list? Is this a kind of horrible thing to do to someone?

Maybe, probably, most likely. But it also seems to make Babe happy, the casual sex and the cuddling and the kissing before and after work, so Eugene is going to swallow his own guilt and not do anything to fuck it up, because he’ll make this boy happy if it kills him.

As for what happens the day that Babe finds someone he wants to—

Well. 

That’s an issue for another day, Eugene decides like the coward he is, nuzzles into the soothing sound of Babe’s breathing and promises in no uncertain terms that come morning, he absolutely will fuck the sense out of Babe to make up for it.

———

When Eugene wakes up, he almost starts getting out of bed before he remembers that he doesn’t have to go into work today. He could cry once the realisation hits him, because fuck, does it feel good to be able to relax back into Babe’s arms.

Speaking of which, Babe has a grip so tight on Gene’s waist that he doesn’t even get anywhere, groaning when he feels his bedmate start to move.

“No, Gene,” he mumbles out, clearly still half-asleep. “No work, come back here.” 

It’s whiny and grumpy and absolutely adorable, and Eugene wastes exactly no time turning around from where they’d gotten into a spooning position to press a sleepy good morning kiss to Babe’s lips.

Babe sighs happily into it, a soft little moan slipping out from what Gene guesses is just the force of his contentment, but it still does something to the pit of Eugene’s stomach. And oh, right, that was the note they left off on last night, he remembers now.

Suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more awake, his body apparently having gotten whatever rest it needed to be able to get into the mood when Gene’s mind does, he presses another long, careful kiss to Babe’s mouth. 

“Morning, sweetie,” he whispers into it, and Babe hums happily in response, still clinging to Eugene but with a decisively more sleepy energy. “Hey there, darling, you awake for me? You here with me, sweet boy?”

A soft “ _ Gene _ ” is all Babe responds with, his body starting to respond to the insistent press of Gene’s chest against his and the stream of pet names.

“Remember what I said last night?” Eugene continues, moving from Babe’s mouth to press a line of kisses down Babe’s cheek, over the line of his jaw to his throat. “Remember what I promised you, sweetheart? You still want that?”

Babe just moans in response, heavy arms draping themselves around Eugene’s neck to press him closer. It makes him smile against Babe’s neck, nipping at his pulse point before sticking his tongue out to lick a wet stripe over soft skin.

It gets a reaction, Babe gently arching his back and turning his face to the side to give Eugene better access, and Gene takes that as permission to go on with this whole plan of his. 

He’s fantastically responsive, Eugene marvels, and tries not to count the days since they did this last. He’s too busy slotting one of his legs between Babe’s, giving the boy something to rut against as Eugene moves one of his hands to run up Babe’s shirt. 

Babe’s own hands are still grabbing at Gene, one in his hair and one going down to the small of Gene’s back, like a memory from last night coming through. Eugene nips at Babe’s earlobe, groaning softly when it makes Babe fist his hand in the back of Gene’s shirt. 

That, in turn, earns him a full-bodied shiver from Babe, and Eugene presses one last kiss to the side of his jaw before pulling back a little bit.

“Roll over for me,  _ minou _ , that’s it,” he guides gently, using both of his hands to turn Babe’s sleep-heavy body around until he’s lying on his stomach, arms going up hug a pillow tight to his chest. “Just lie there, you good boy, let me take care of you.”

It makes Babe sigh into the pillows, his hips rolling a little, but other than that he stays in place while Eugene goes into their—  _ Babe’s _ bedside table for the lube, leaving it on the mattress for now.

Babe looks like he could be sleeping, eyes closed and body relaxed into the mattress. His hair is a mess and his breathing is still all slow and deep, and it could be the most beautiful thing Eugene ever laid his eyes upon.

He doesn’t want to break the quiet too much, almost like he’s afraid of bothering the man, so instead Gene just leans over to press a kiss to the back of Babe’s neck. At the same time, he hooks a hand under the back of one of Babe’s legs, pushing it up until Gene has proper access to him, Babe’s little back arched into it and his soft pyjama pants stretching over the curve of his ass. 

Another shiver goes down Babe’s spine, and he moans out a soft little “ _ Gene _ ” as a line of kisses is pressed down his back. 

“Shh, sweetheart,  _ mon cher, _ I’ve got you,” Eugene mumbles against his spine, hooking a couple of fingers into the lining of Babe’s trousers to slowly pull them down just into the crease where Babe’s thighs meet his butt. “You trust me, darling? You wanna feel good, let me make you feel good?”

He looks downright delicious, and maybe it’s just the part of Eugene that gets off on the sight of Babe being soft, trusting and vulnerable, but if that’s the case then this is the morning to indulge the shit out of it. 

Gene presses a kiss to where Babe’s shirt has hitched up just enough to expose the bottom part of his spine as he warms up some lube on a few of his fingers. Babe’s breath hitches as soon as Eugene gets a hand on one of his cheeks, spreading him open, and the first press of a finger has him moaning quietly.

It’s an airy, drawn-out sound, like Babe is still not fully conscious but caught in some wonderland halfway between sleep and subspace, and it goes straight to Eugene’s dick. 

His body is also so goddamned relaxed, Gene barely having to wait at all before pressing a second finger into him, despite the fact that it’s been over a week since they last did this.

The feeling is intoxicating, Babe being all soft and borderline ready for him, barely even awake but still making shallow little ruts into the mattress, brows furrowed over closed eyes as he’s worked open.

Just to test, more than anything, Eugene presses the pads of his fingers down on where he’s memorised Babe’s sweet spot as being, and sticks the tip of his tongue out to tease where the rim of his ass clenches a little around Gene’s knuckles.

“Oh my God, Gene,” Babe groans out, high-pitched and half-muffled into the pillows. One of his hands shoots out behind him in search of something, settling on trying to fist his fingers into Eugene’s short hair, seemingly unable to decide whether he wants to rut into or away from the sensation.

Eugene just tuts at him, taking Babe’s wrist with the hand not currently pushing into Babe’s ass and pressing it into the mattress. “I know it’s been a while,” he scolds gently, twisting his fingers just to hear Babe make another open-mouthed noise into the bed, “but that’s no reason for you to forget your manners, kitten.”

Babe makes a little whimper, but doesn’t try to fight back when Eugene lets go of his wrist to put his full attention back on his ass. Just to make a point, he adds a third finger, feeling Babe finally begin to actually stretch around it. 

It makes him whimper again, rocking his hips between the fingers and where his dick is probably hard against the sheets. Babe turns his head until his forehead is pressed into the pillows, but other than that he stays dutifully still under Gene’s hands. 

_ Fuck, he’s such a good boy _ , Eugene thinks, and then says it just for good measure. It earns him another open-mouthed panting noise, so Gene continues to run his mouth in between hard kisses to the sensitive skin around Babe’s ass.

“So perfect, just like this, all soft and willing for me,” he groans out, moving his fingers slowly, twisting and hooking them just to make Babe writhe under him. “God, even first thing in the morning, you’re just ready for me, aren’t you? You poor thing, having been left alone for so long, I really haven’t been treating you right lately, have I?”

Babe only moans, and Eugene decides that he’s ready. Leaning back, he pulls his fingers out carefully and crawls back up the length of Babe’s body to plaster himself along his back. 

“You miss me?” Gene mumbles, pressing a kiss to the soft skin behind Babe’s ear, rutting his own clothed erection over the cleft of Babe’s exposed ass. “Did you wait for me, all alone,  _ ma petite chérie?” _

“Yes,” Babe moans out, both of his hands coming up to clutch at the pillows beneath him, rutting back into Eugene’s hips. “Yes, Gene, missed you, please, please—“

“Shh,  _ doudou, _ it’s okay,” he responds, leaning back on one of his elbows to pull his own sweatpants down. It makes Babe groan again, the feeling of Eugene’s hard cock against his slick ass seemingly making something in him ache. “You want it,  _ minou? Mon chaton, _ you do, don’t you,  _ tu le veux tellement, mon Dieu— _ “

“Yes,” Babe whimpers again, breathing against the sheets, hands clutching at the pillows, “I do, please, Gene, please, I want—“

Eugene hushes him again, leaning back to slick his dick up before wiping his hand on the sheets — Sunday’s laundry day, anyway, it’ll be fine — and going back to nuzzle into the crook of Babe’s neck. 

He presses a kiss to Babe’s ear, places a firm hand on the cheek of Babe’s ass, spreads him open and pushes into him slowly. 

It’s so soft, all of Babe still relaxed and pliable under Eugene, letting him bury himself to the base in one smooth thrust. They groan together, Babe high and breathy, Gene low and hoarse. He forces one of his arms under Babe’s neck, gripping his shoulder so that he can hold him in place.

“That’s it,  _ mon cher, mon chouchou, _ ” Eugene gets out, because he has to, has to tell Babe just how amazing he is. 

Because Babe is perfect, moving against Gene’s thrusts, arching his back to give him a better angle, let Gene press up against his ass harder, deeper, but apart from that he’s still. It’s wonderful, just soft, wet heat and those little moans Babe lets out when Eugene hits a particularly good spot.

It makes his heart clench, the trust there, the absolute vulnerability Babe shows by placing his faith in Gene’s hands, believing that he’ll be well taken care of and treated well. 

And of course he will be, because Babe is fucking precious, is a piece of art that Eugene has been tasked and trusted to care for, and by fucking God above will he. 

But he feels all of this, and it reminds him of the truth that Babe doesn’t necessarily understand the full depth of why Eugene cares for him so much, or just how much he cares to begin with. It makes him bury his face in Babe’s neck, suddenly shy and ashamed of his own emotions.

“ _ T’es précieux, _ ” he whispers, right into the shell of Babe’s ear, chest pressed flush against Babe’s back, rutting into him with movements that are barely even thrusts as much as a continuous, rhythmic rocking of their hips together. “ _ T’es précieux, un trésor, je t’adore, mamour— _ “

Babe can’t understand him, of course, after months he still barely knows how to say his own name in French, but maybe that’s the point. Eugene feels too much, and he can’t say it, can’t tell Babe what he thinks when they’re like this — it’s too fragile, Babe too vulnerable, he can’t expose him to that right now, not when he doesn’t know the whole extent of how much Gene means it.

So he says it in a language Babe doesn’t understand, like that makes it better, like the only issue with what Eugene is doing is whether Babe understands the words or not. 

Eugene pulls himself out of whatever weird thought loop this is, because Babe’s noises have turned from moans to needy little whimpers, and Gene knows what that means. So he presses the side of his face into Babe’s neck and laughs.

“You ready to come for me,  _ chérie? _ Fuck, you are, aren’t you, shh, it’s okay, I got you,” and he does, moves the hand not stuck under Babe’s collarbones to press into the front of his pyjama pants. 

The angle is horrible, but Babe still groans like he loves it, bucking his hips into the touch. Eugene keeps his pace up, lets the movement of Babe’s hips set the speed, until he’s panting and trembling with need under him.

“Gene, please—“

“Just keep going, just like that,  _ mon Dieu, je t’adore, mon trésor, mon minou parfait— _ “

Babe is whimpering, eyes pressed close and his hands twitching, but it doesn’t take long until his hips stutter and he comes with a small cry smothered into the pillows, biting into the soft fabric and furrowing his brows like he’s in actual pain. 

Eugene rocks him through it, murmuring more sweet nonsense, feels Babe clench and throb and definitely fuck their sheets up, but who gives a shit, it’s laundry day.

It’s only once Babe starts twitching that Gene pulls his hand away and stills his hips, giving him some time to breathe before going any further. He doesn’t waste the time, though, pressing kisses along the line of Babe’s shoulder while keeping his mouth running, all up to the point where he feels Babe sniffle in a familiar way.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gene mumbles fondly, holding him tighter as Babe sobs quietly. “Was that a lot? It was, wasn’t it, oh  _ ch— _ “

“Yellow,” Babe says over a sob, covering his own mouth the second after, but the effect has already taken place.

Eugene feels like a rug just got yanked out from underneath him, and he pulls back so fast he almost worries the force of it is gonna hurt one of them.

Here’s the thing: Babe has never, ever used a safeword in bed. Eugene has actually talked to him about it, on two memorable occasions that he refuses either of them to think of as ‘cringeworthy’ because communication is important.

Because Eugene is careful, or in Babe’s word “a nervous wreck who needs to stop talking colour charts and get his dick in me,” they have a lot of different kinds of ways to tell that something is going too far. 

This also means Eugene has actually sat them down and addressed the non-safewording thing, and both times, Babe has reassured him that everything is okay, that he’s just never been uncomfortable.

But now, Babe tells him, in no uncertain terms, to back off, and Gene is kind of high key freaking out about it, because he cannot for the fucking life of him understand what he did that was wrong. 

So he resorts to doing what he can think of, which is to pull their pants up and move to Babe’s other side so that he can look him in the eyes and ask him what’s going on. Or, well, ask in terms that two-sheets-to-the-wind Babe can understand.

“Hey, Babe, sw—“ Gene starts, but cuts off before he can say something stupid or reckless. Babe is staring at him with wide, wet eyes, and Eugene’s heart is beating about a mile a minute. “Hi there, are you okay? Can I touch you?”

Babe nods, thank fuck, and Eugene reaches out to touch his shoulder. It earns him another sob, but also Babe leaning into his hand like he’s dying for it, so Gene slowly manoeuvres them around until Babe is pressed against his chest, small and shaking like some kind of animal.

It’s heartbreaking, not helped by the fact that Babe still has both his hands pressed over his mouth, like he’s trying to keep himself quiet or — way worse — that he’s ashamed of himself for saying their word for “pause.”

“Babe, tell me, what’s going on? Please, I— need to know, do you think you can tell me?” The only response he gets is a few slow breaths, like Babe is trying to calm himself down, and Eugene waits him out, cheek pressed against the top of Babe’s messy mop of hair. “I promise I won’t be mad, or annoyed, or upset, Babe, I swear—“

Babe cuts him off, screwing his eyes shut, his voice trembling and borderline scared, “I couldn’t— can I touch you, please, Gene, I’m sorry, I wanna— please—“ 

“Of course,” he gets out faster than Babe can ramble. He’s expecting to be wrestled halfway into the mattress, but all he gets is one uncertain set of fingers meekly curling into the fabric of Gene’s shirt, and— oh.

“Oh,” Gene says, because he thinks he gets it, now. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t— did you want to touch me? Was that it?”

The response he gets is a sob, that weak little hand gripping his shirt a little tighter, and Eugene is going to die. He leans them back over so that Babe is under him again, and then Gene gently takes Babe’s free hand in his.

His fingers are immediately squeezed to within an inch of their lives, but Eugene steadily moves Babe’s hand to the back of his own neck, kissing a trail from Babe’s forehead down the line of his nose.

“I’m here, darling, I’m here, I’ve got you, and you’ve got me,” he mumbles out against Babe’s skin, feeling his own stomach unclench a little when Babe’s hand takes a gentle grip on the back of his neck. “There you go, there you are, sweetheart. Can I kiss you, Babe, do you want that? May I?”

Babe just nods, carefully pulling on the back of Eugene’s head, and he goes willingly. Babe’s mouth is soft and gentle against his, weak from sex and emotion and what Gene really wishes isn’t the aftershocks of fear. 

“Always want you touching me, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” he continues mumbling against Babe’s lips, pressing kiss after kiss there as both of Babe’s hands get a firmer grip on Gene’s body. “I got you, right here, always, and you got me, yeah? Feel that? You got me, sweetie, just like that.”

“I—“ Babe gets out, sounding weak and exhausted, and it makes Gene’s heart clench again. “Gene, I— do you— do you want me?”

Eugene furrows his brows at that, worriedly pressing his forehead to Babe’s, leaning down until they’re pressed together from hip to chest. “Of course I do, sweetheart, Babe, you’re— I want you so much, always, forever. Babe, look at me, please, look at me.”

Babe’s eyes are still closed, and Eugene needs them not to be, for a little bit. He needs to be able to look Babe in the eyes, to look at him and tell him just how wonderful he is, because nothing in his whole life has mattered more to Gene than making sure that Edward Heffron knows how much Eugene Roe wants him right now.

But slowly, coaxed with kisses and some gentle begging, those blue eyes finally open up to meet his, and Eugene feels himself caught like an animal in a trap under them.

“I want you,” he whispers, and Babe blinks slowly up at him, looking uncertain and overwhelmed.

“Do you really wanna keep me, Genie?” Babe asks, and it’s a bit of a déjà vu moment, but Gene nods helplessly regardless.

“Always.”

“I was—“ Babe licks his lips, one thumb coming over to rub over Eugene’s cheekbone, “I want… I need, Gene, I can’t—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart, tell me,” he tries to coax, leaning down to kiss Babe again. “Tell me, sweetie, what do you want?”

It comes out of Babe in one short breath, like he has to ride whatever little wave of bravado he’s on out to the end, “don’t stop?”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Eugene says carefully, rubbing the sides of their noses together, pressing half-minded kisses to Babe’s lips every now and then, just to make sure he knows Gene is here, is caring about him, isn’t forgetting. “What don’t you want me to stop?”

“Please,” Babe says, weakly pushing and pulling on Gene’s body until he gets the hint and crawls back on top of the boy. “Don’t stop, I— this, I want— please. Please, Gene.”

And Eugene understands, but he’s also a bit hesitant, because as much as he’s willing to lay down his life right now if Babe would ask it of him, he’s also weary of rushing back into something that would make him uncomfortable. But then again, the word said was ‘yellow,’ not ‘red,’ so he’s also genuinely torn between believing Babe and being cautious. 

“You sure, darling?” Is what he settles for asking, nestling in between Babe’s thighs like he belongs there, but not going any further for now.

Babe looks uncertain, and it hurts, but Gene would rather force him to communicate the mood away than go headlessly into something that would hurt him. 

“Gene, I’m… If you don’t want, I’m sorry, you don’t have t—“

“No, sweetie, no, that’s not it, I want to,” he hurries to interrupt the small rant-to-be, because Eugene does know Babe well enough to recognise a spiralling moment when he sees it. “If I didn’t want to, I’d tell you, yeah? I just don’t wanna hurt you, is all. I never want you to get hurt, want to take care of you, keep you safe and happy.”

He stops there, because Babe whimpers so softly it makes something warm and instinctual coil in the bottom of Eugene’s stomach. He’s being pulled down into another kiss, and it feels like they make the decision together. 

“Never want you to get hurt,” Gene mumbles as he runs one hand down the side of Babe’s body, using his other arm to hold himself up so that he can continue to press kisses to Babe’s soft face. “Want you to feel good,  _ chérie _ , to be happy, wanna be as good to you as you are to me.”

His hand has reached Babe’s hip, continuing down to get a gentle grip on the man’s thigh, starting to slowly hitch it up against his own body. Babe is arching into it, tilting his chin up needily to get more kisses, and who is Eugene to not indulge him?

Their mouths press together, over and over, Gene’s lips catching on Babe’s soft ones again and again. It’s sweet, but deep and firm and reassuring, slowly uncoiling the worry at the base of Eugene’s spine and instead winding something else up, entirely.

God, he loves kissing this man, loves the way Babe closes his eyes and arches into it, how he responds when Gene gently rocks his hips with a roll of his own spine. Gene doesn’t understand the point in his no-touch rule to begin with, now, because Babe’s fingers clutching at him through the fabric of his shirt is slowly driving Eugene insane.

Having a promise to fulfil, though, Gene makes himself break the kiss once Babe’s leg is pressed so high up he’s squirming from the stretch. He leans back with a smile, lifting himself up until he’s balancing on his knees and can unceremoniously push Babe’s other leg up with more force and far less reverence.

“I know, kitten, I know,” Gene soothes when it makes Babe whimper, pressing one of his own fingers into his mouth while reaching out for Eugene with his other hand. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, I just wanna make sure you’re still ready for me, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you, now.”

With that, Eugene braces Babe’s knees up with one forearm, pressing them down until Babe is all but folded in half, hoping the position will be enough of a tether to keep him from spiralling off. The other hand he presses in under Babe’s ass, getting a hold on his pyjama pants and once again pulling them down over his ass, which makes the boy let out an embarrassed, wonderful sound.

Despite what it may seem, Eugene isn’t an idiot. He knows exactly how Babe feels about the whole power dynamic of being naked while Gene is still dressed, but he simply doesn’t have the energy to take all of Babe’s clothes off, and to a lesser degree doesn’t want to make him feel too vulnerable right now.

So being folded in half, only undressed enough to give Gene access, is simply going to have to make do. By the way Babe goes bright red and shyly looks at Gene with glassy eyes under furrowed brows, it might just, and Jesus, there it is, that’s the look Eugene would probably actually commit homicide to get to see.

Babe looks like— He looks like he’s overwhelmed, scared (in a good way, thank God), turned on and ashamed and completely shameless, just open and willing and careful and small under Eugene. It’s the most beautiful sight in the entire world, and any remnant of moodkill there was from his own worry is out the window now along with the last of his care for anything in the whole world apart from Babe Heffron.

“That’s it, there you are, there’s my good boy,” Eugene all but purrs, and Babe whimpers back at him, high-pitched and gentle. “Think you can keep your legs there, for me? Just for a minute, lov— sweetheart, just a second.”

Ignoring the way his cheeks burn at all thse fucking slips of his own tongue, he helps Babe get a grip on the back of his own knees, holding onto his wrists with a hold that seems both weak and deathly determined at the same time. Eugene coats two of his own fingers back up with lube and then holds Babe in place with one hand while pressing them into him.

It’s not really that Babe would have had the time to tighten up all that much, emotional turmoil despite, but more that Eugene wants to make a point of taking care with this. 

If that includes fingering his boy op—

_ Babe is not your boy, Eugene _ , he reminds himself, trying to scold his own internal monologue into complying with the situation.  _ Not your boy, just a man who trusts you to be good and not horrible about this. Get a grip _ . 

So. If that includes fingering Babe open twice in the span of an hour, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

Of course, Babe is also an impatient little brat, groaning with frustration as Gene takes all the care in the world, again, pressing his head back onto the pillows in annoyance. Eugene can almost hear the bitchy ranting he’d be getting if Babe was in a headspace to think and not just communicate through soft noises and a fruitless attempt at wiggling his way into more friction. 

It gets him nowhere, of course, given the position he’s in, but Eugene takes pity on the man nonetheless.

“Okay, sweetheart, I get it,” he tries not to laugh but probably fails, pressing against the little bundle of nerves in Babe’s ass one last time before pulling his fingers out. That final rub of the pads of Gene’s fingers seems to get to the boy, though, because he presses his eyes closed and almost pants.  _ Fuck, he’s so far gone,  _ Gene thinks fondly to himself. _ We should do this more often _ .

“You ready for me, then?” Is what he says, though, because discussing the merits of fucking Babe the literal first thing in the morning is a conversation for another time. For now, he shimmies his own pants down and wraps a wet hand around himself, again, leaning down to press a kiss to one of Babe’s knees. “You want it, pretty boy? Want me to fuck you? Again,” he tacks on just to have a reason to smile down at him.

Babe nods in response, opening his eyes from where he’d closed them earlier, breath heavy through red lips and eyelashes wet from what’s probably about five different kinds of tears.

Gene tries not to coo down at him as he lines himself up and presses into Babe’s ass, but it’s difficult to keep that resolve when Babe straight up mewls into it. His hands are twisting against each other, and Eugene gently but quickly tugs them out of their hold.

“Fuck, you’re so wonderful,” Gene groans as he leans down, holding Babe’s legs in place with his own body instead. He does fold Babe in half now, one knee hooked over Gene’s elbow while his other leg is up on Eugene’s shoulder. “Perfect, just like this, always, my sweet, good boy, Babe.”

It’s straining, the position, must be, and Eugene knows this, but it also seems to be kind of what Babe needs right now. His hands tremble against the back of Gene’s head, his neck, against his waist and over his back, like they can’t decide on a place to stay as Eugene starts moving his hips.

The rocking from before is gone, because Gene feels a need to actually fuck this man now, this wonderful, beautiful man with his pyjama pants stuck just under the curve of his ass like he’s a present for Eugene to devour. Babe is writhing under him, but in a good way, staring at Eugene with eyes that barely seem to be here, mouth open and breaths almost as heavy as the pounding his ass is getting.

_ “Do you really want to keep me,”  _ Babe had asked earlier, and Eugene could honestly cry at the ridiculous nature of that question because holy hell, in what world would he not want to keep Babe forever? 

His own feelings aside,  _ Jesus Christ and all the angels in the sky _ , the man is a bona fide wonder, like this and at any other moment, too. 

Gene thrusts against him, pressing into the tight, wet heat of Babe’s ass over and over, focusing his movements once he finally seems to strike that spot that makes his lov— his  _ whatever-they-are _ groan. Babe’s grip on Gene going so tight it’ll probably end up bruising, and he wonders how the fuck Babe could ever even think that a universe exists where Eugene wouldn’t want to keep him.

There is nothing Gene wants more than to keep him. Fuck, he would keep Babe in a goddamned box if he could, lock him up in a fucking castle somewhere, far away from anything that isn’t soft and safe and carefree, preferably with lots of sunshine and kisses.

Jesus, he loves this man so much. 

And as Babe closes his eyes, pulling Eugene down into a kiss that turns into panting into each other’s mouths after all of two seconds, he lets himself forget that this is not a mutual thing. He forgets that Babe Heffron most likely doesn’t love him back, because Babe is not the kind of person who’d fall in love with the kind of person that Eugene is.

Gene forgets, and he fucks Babe like he loves him, fast and deep and thoroughly, pressing them together until Babe starts babbling nonsense from the stretch and the pull in his legs. 

He seems to flicker through about fifteen stages in a matter of seconds, going from begging to pleading to swearing to mewling and eventually settling on just clinging to Eugene like his life depends on it, moaning his name over and over again.

Eugene is going to come, soon and hard, against the feeling and sound of Babe babbling “ _ Gene, Gene, Gene _ ” into his mouth like it’s a prayer. He’s going to come, and he needs— he needs Babe to know, to fully understand—

“I wanna keep you,” Gene groans, and Babe whimpers, high and loud and needy, fisting one hand into the back of Eugene’s shirt and desperately trying to get a hold on Gene’s too-short hair with the other. “Wanna keep you forever, always, anyway you’ll let me, fuck, I— You’re so precious, Babe, too fucking wonderful, I’m—“

He cuts himself off before he really says something reckless by pressing his mouth to Babe’s so hard it almost hurts, forcing the other man to whine through his nose instead.

Apparently that’s not enough, because Babe turns his head out of the not-really-a-kiss to be able to pant out his whines into the room at large. Eugene presses his face into Babe’s neck instead, then, biting down on the skin there to make himself shut the fuck up. 

Babe moans so loudly it’s almost a shout, all but screams Eugene’s name, and it’s a ridiculous moment but it sends Gene tumbling over the edge so hard he forgets himself for a few moments.

The only thing keeping him from actually blacking out is the way Babe sobs, like he’s so close it almost hurts and he just needed a little bit more, because Eugene is not a cruel man and doesn’t like to be selfish. 

So despite his own hips still stuttering, Gene lets go of Babe’s knee to fist a hand around his dick, hoping it’s the one that still has the residues of lube on it, because Babe deserves the fucking best, because he’s—

“Mine,” Eugene pants, pressing his forehead against the side of Babe’s head to growl right into his ear and fuck, he’s going to regret this later— “Mine, Babe, you’re mine, always, forever, you hear me—“

Babe keens so loudly Eugene can barely hear himself over the sound of it, trying to arch his back but getting nowhere, stuck in the press of Gene’s body against his. Coming all over his own stomach and Gene’s hand, Babe jerks through his own aftershocks at the same time as Eugene finally gets to just slump into him with a whimper and a tremble. 

“Jesus Christ,” Babe is the first one to speak, after they’ve been panting for a while. Gene has lowered Babe’s other leg back down, currently busy leaning on Babe’s chest like he’s a letter and Gene is a paperweight.

“We’re gonna get a noise complaint,” is for some reason the only thing Eugene can think to say, but it sends Babe into a fit of laughter that feels like a balm on Gene’s aching soul right now.

When he lifts his head up with a fond smile, he finds Babe giggling against shaking fingers, looking fucked out and ruined and beautiful, staring up into the ceiling like he’s on a different planet.

Eugene feels like the luckiest person on the planet, but there’s also something unpleasant and heavy clawing its way up his throat, because he doesn’t know how the fuck he is supposed to one day un-learn how to live like this.

———

They had plans for this day, Eugene knows, but he point blank dismisses them all the second he rolls off of Babe and the man just rolls right back into him, smiling and humming dopily into Gene’s neck like the cat that got the fucking cream. 

Because he doesn’t care about the rest of their gang, or laundry, or calling his mom. All Eugene cares about is wrapping Babe up in his arms, carrying him into the shower — Babe clinging to him with all four of his limbs — and cleaning him up under a never-ending stream of nonsense about how good he is. 

Not that it’s nonsense, really, because it’s true, all of it, every single word; Eugene really does feel this lucky, Babe really does make him this happy, he really is this perfect and wonderful. 

Fuck, he’s gonna make someone very happy, one day, Gene can’t even imagine. 

He forces himself to feel weirdly nostalgic about something that hasn’t happened yet, only half-listening to Babe rant about the new animated Avengers film, as a self-imposed vibe check, because Gene zoned out a little too much during that scene for it to really be okay.

It’s fine to love someone who doesn’t love you back, it really is, but to act like Babe belongs to him is a precarious thing right now. Eugene wrestles another shirt and two pairs of socks onto his wriggly and uncooperative roommate, because Babe always forgets that he gets cold as fuck after a scene, and thinks about how Babe is not always going to be his to care for. 

As he bundles Babe up in two blankets and plops him down on the sofa with his laptop and his biggest, comfiest headphones, Gene reminds himself that this is an arrangement made out of practicality, not permanence.

He makes sure Babe is good for the two minutes it’ll take Eugene to get him something to eat and a bottle of gatorade, and then walks into the kitchen while repeating a couple of facts that are quickly becoming a mantra.

Fact One: Eugene is in love with Babe.

Fact Two: Babe does not care for Eugene in that way.

Fact Three: No matter how badly Eugene wants Fact Two to not actually be true, it doesn’t change anything.

It’s annoying and it hurts and it makes Gene have to take a time-out sometimes to bend himself over at the waist and count to ten to get rid of the aching feeling in his chest, but there’s nothing he can do to change facts.

Because the truth is this: Babe is a fantastically open, honest and communicative person. He doesn’t hold his emotions secret, he doesn’t lie, and he doesn’t embellish the truth to make other people feel better, especially not if doing that actually just hurts both them and himself in the long run.

Babe is brave, he is realistic, he stands for who he is, and Eugene knows him well enough to know that if—  _ when _ Babe falls in love, it’s probably going to take him a whole fifteen seconds to open a window and shout it into the streets of Philadelphia.

Not that Eugene really knows what In Love Babe would be like, sure, but if he’s anything like Normal Babe, he’d be pretty unapologetic about it, all soft and happy and grinning and—  _ Get a grip, Eugene, _ he thinks to himself, frowning into the hot chocolate he’s ended up making on pure instinct.

It’s been seven months since they first fell into bed together, and some three and a half years since they first moved in with each other. If Babe felt anything for Eugene that wasn’t purely platonic, he would’ve said so by now.

Eugene knows Babe doesn’t care for him the same way Gene cares for Babe, because unlike Eugene, Babe would never be able, nor want, to hold off on that kind of information. Gene might be the kind of idiot who falls in love with his roommate and thus dooms himself to a lifetime of pining, but Babe would—

And, yeah, no, Eugene is not gonna imagine what Babe would look like if he fell in love, because he’s absolutely not that kind of masochist.

Hey, here’s another fun fact: While Eugene is busy pining in the kitchen, he’s also ignoring a man currently coming down from a very deep kind of subspace, and no matter how much Gene may or may not be unrequitedly in love with said man, there’s no excuse for that.

So he pours Babe his mug of chocolate, puts it on a tray along with a bottle of Gatorade and two of the little sandwiches Babe made him the other day when Gene had forgotten to make a lunch box. He does that, mentally slaps himself and stops thinking about his own gross, ulterior motives.

When he gets back into the living room, Babe has moved from the sofa to the floor, arms wrapped around his own knees as he watches his film, head lifting up when he hears Eugene return.

“Hi there,” Gene says, putting the tray down on their coffee table before squatting down next to him. Babe smiles, and Eugene smiles back. “Didn’t I leave you on the sofa, pretty boy?”

“You did,” Babe confirms, frowning like he’s steeling himself for a fight, but also trying to weaponise his puppy eyes. It looks ridiculous. It’s also terribly adorable. “But I wanna sit on the floor.”

“You want me on the floor, too?” Babe chews on his lip for a second and Eugene just laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of Babe’s head as he climbs onto the sofa. “Thought so. Come on, sweetie, you have to eat something if we’re doing this.”

Babe fusses, but it’s seemingly only for show because he downs the gatorade and finishes his sandwich in record time, only really whining when Eugene isn’t also immediately eating his own food but then quickly going into a satisfied hum once Gene relents with a roll of his eyes. 

They’re then left sitting like that, Babe curled up against Gene’s knees like the poster child for good subbies — which is a word Eugene uses in his head and in his head only, thank you very much — sipping his chocolate while watching his cartoons, seemingly happy to laze away this Sunday in a haze of subspace and slow aftercare.

And who is Eugene to deny him? If the boy wants to stay good, is willing to just let Eugene keep caring for him, you’d have to threaten him with both their lives to make him turn that down.

So Gene cards a hand through Babe’s hair, picks up a book from his coffee table supply, and settles in for the long haul. 

At some point Babe starts dozing off for real and Eugene just tuts at him, pulling the boy up onto his lap and fussing over his blankets until he’s good and nestled in. Babe falls asleep like that, head on Gene’s shoulder and one hand sneaked in under Gene’s shirt to seemingly just feel the skin under the palm of his hand, tired and sated and a vision of the most perfect thing in the universe.

Eugene just hugs him for a while, placing gentle kisses into Babe’s messy hair and just taking comfort in the warm weight of him on Gene’s lap, because he doesn’t know for how long he’ll have it. 

He closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of this marvel of a man, tries not to think about how badly his chest aches, instead focusing on memorising just how good it feels to have Babe Heffron in his arms, for the future when Babe is no longer his to care for.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: Okay, so this is... A tricky one. 
> 
> \- Basically, Eugene and Babe are both in love with each other, but the other person doesn't know this. This fic is set from Gene's standpoint, and basically he angsts a lot about the fear that he's taking advantage of Babe by not being honest with him on his feelings. I hope I've managed to deal with that point well, but please do tell me if that's not the case.
> 
> \- Babe safewords, specifically the "pause" word. For the purpose of the fic, it's left unclear because it's from Eugene's POV, but basically what happens is this: Babe is head over heels in love with Eugene, and he starts freaking the fuck out that Eugene doesn't want him as much as Babe wants Eugene. This is why you communicate before you kink, people. It's dealt with and Babe is a happy boy at the end of it.
> 
> \- Uh, pre-negotiated first-thing-in-the-morning sex? Everyone is conscious and awake and on board with what happens, a good time is had.
> 
> \- idk being in love af and thinking the other person isn't but still fucking them, aka a horrible idea
> 
> * * *
> 
> WAYO sex is back on the menu, people!
> 
> i banged this out in about a day and a half thanks to laura, without whom I would not be alive and posting right now. Also massive thanks to Emma for the SUPPORT, and congratulations to Sar for her new job as a boss bitch babe <3
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr](https://mariamegale.tumblr.com/) if you want! I'm kinda stuck in a funk so my response time is a bit wonky atm, but I DO STILL LOVE AND CHERISH every message. Talk kink, send me prompts, scream at me for being horrible.
> 
> (Seriously, I know this is borderlining on ridiculous at this point, we've gone so far, but come with me on this journey, it's really not that far away now.)
> 
> i love you all and i hope you have a lovely day despite my tomfoolery <3


End file.
